


TTOU Big Finish Snippet: Inspections and Prototypes

by Nehszriah



Series: The Thick of UNIT [8]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: F/M, Prompt Fic, Script Fic, The Thick Of Unit, and Bismuth's lack of Human knowledge but at least we know that gets way better further on, mostly rated for Malcolm's language, then everyone else's language, wow it has been a while since I wrote a proper script and that's why it kinda ends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-20 04:14:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20669150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nehszriah/pseuds/Nehszriah
Summary: A quick inspection up at Mainframe UK's Glasburgh branch leads to a hurt Malcolm and a much more annoying trip for Kate.[TTOU-verse; takes place sometime between chs. 8 and 10; might be fic-canon]





	TTOU Big Finish Snippet: Inspections and Prototypes

**Author's Note:**

> So I got a prompt on tumblr that involved Malcolm/Kate and Big Finish and Scotland were mentioned. So, what do I do? Experiment and actually write a short (and not Big Finish quality/length) script for part of an adventure.
> 
> Overall, it's rather truncated from what is probably the standard but meh lessons learned; takes place sometime shortly after our dynamic couple begin their courtship; let me tell you, writing is hard, writing scripts is harder, and writing audio-only scripts is a fucking challenge; contains the technical debut of Major (now Colonel in TTOU) Bell; I would like to apologize to Big Finish fans, the Irish, and just in general

_Ambient, technological office noises fill the air—various beeping, people chatting, papers shuffling—and everything seems relatively calm. It’s just another day at UNIT’s Mainframe UK. Footsteps fade in and we follow them, all the way to a pinging lift door, then, silence._

MALCOLM: Ugh. [_sips drink_] Fuck.

_The lift pings again and MALCOLM walks out._

MALCOLM: Mornin’ Rajit.

APARAJITA: Good morning, Malcolm. Chipper as ever, I see?

MALCOLM: Just make sure I don’t murder Shaw and we’ll be good.

_MALCOLM’S briefcase drops hard on the floor and he sits in his chair. He takes another sip of his drink and moves some papers._

APARAJITA: What’s with you? You’re never this cross when you first walk in… and Shaw’s even **on holiday**.

MALCOLM: He is? Good for fucking him. Now we can get some peace and quiet around here…

_Grunting in frustration, APARAJITA wheels her chair out and enters her boss’s office, shutting the door behind her. He is trying to ignore her, tapping away on his computer._

APARAJITA: Okay, what’s wrong?

MALCOLM: You don’t want to know.

APARAJITA: Of course I do, if it makes me able to do my job better because my boss isn’t acting like a tit. Now, what happened? What’s wrong?

_Silence; not even typing._

APARAJITA: Answer me, Malcolm.

MALCOLM: Fucking hell, Rajit—she told me she was going to ring last night after she was done for the day and I waited up, but no answer. We weren’t even supposed to be in the same country for it and Kate stood me up for a date **_she set up_**.

APARAJITA: Maybe she was in a late meeting?

MALCOLM: I left over five fucking voicemails.

APARAJITA: Shit, Malcolm, that’s clingy-fucking-desperate if you ask me. She’s just at Glasburgh.

MALCOLM: Yeah, if it was just me checking in on me own, but it was her fucking idea. [_throws pen_] There better be a good explanation for all of this.

APARAJITA: As in “your ladyfriend is in charge of a multicompound paramilitary organization and sometimes gets into emergencies where she can’t do callbacks on her voicemail”?

MALCOLM: Yes! A text message would have been nice! You know, a reminder that she’s not ghosting me for no fucking reason! “Can’t talk; phone sex later” or something…!

APARAJITA: I did not need to know that.

MALCOLM: Just leave me the fuck alone, alright?

APARAJITA: Fine. Be that way.

_She walks out of the room and closes the door hard behind her. Flopping down in her chair, she begins to grumble to herself._

APARAJITA: Such a fucking crybaby—no wonder he was single for so long…

_She exhales heavily and logs back into her computer._

APARAJITA: Raj was right… I should just go private secto—oh, hello. [_mouse clicks_] What have we here? “_I am sorry to inform you that_…” Uh… Malcolm…?

MALCOLM: [_muffled, from behind the door_] NOT NOW.

APARAJITA: You might want to read this email!

MALCOLM: WHAT PART OF “NOT NOW” ARE YOU SUDDENLY NOT ABLE TO UNDER-FUCKING-STAND?

APARAJITA: I’m just going to send it to you.

MALCOLM: I WON’T READ IT.

APARAJITA: It will explain why your dick was lonely last night.

_When that receives no response, APARAJITA quickly clicks her mouse and types and clicks again. She waits, only to hear MALCOLM scramble to open the door._

MALCOLM: What the fuck is Glasburgh doing?! Letting the Brigadier-Director up and fucking vanish! Who was with her?!

APARAJITA: It wasn’t Walsh or Ahmed… a younger woman… Major Bell, I think? Plus one of Frank’s better Zygon projects. Malcolm? Where are you going?

MALCOLM: Out!

APARAJITA: Get yourself a wank in while you’re at it. [_the lift pings and doors open_] Ta.

MALCOLM: Yeah, fuck you too.

_The lift doors close._

* * *

_Sea spray and gulls fill the air, only to fade slightly. The slight crunch of walking over dead grasses and twigs eventually overtakes it. Only a few moments and sounds from the seaside vanish completely._

KATE: Bismuth? Bell? I think I was able to get signal for a moment! [_she stops_] _Bismuth? **Bell?**_

BELL: [_a slight distance away_] Over here, ma’am. Fajr went to scout the area and see if she can figure out where we are.

KATE: [_continues walking_] …and you? Other than hiding from me, of course.

BELL: Clearly, I’m getting a fire going. We don’t know how long we’ll be here after all.

KATE: [_stops, now close to Bell_] This is true.

_Large wings flap, rustling grasses and leaves, before a loud **THUD**._

KATE: I appreciate trying to not be conspicuous, but a _giant _eagle?

BISMUTH: At least it is a species native to the area this time.

BELL: What did you see? Is there a town nearby?

BISMUTH: Not for another twenty-five, maybe thirty, miles at the least. It’s walkable, but within a couple days. I cannot even see a communications tower—we are firmly the farthest we could be from other intelligent life without leaving the country.

BELL: We’re still in the UK?

BISMUTH: I expect so—the horizon shows me topographical features I recognize as being potentially Scottish. They could, also, be Norwegian. I am unsure at this moment.

KATE: Shit. We lost a whole day _and_ can’t figure out where our precise location is—I got signal long enough for my clock to sync and nothing else. Not even the satnav feature works.

BELL: What was that thing, anyhow, and how’d it get us all the way out here?

BISMUTH: Basic transmat prototype; it obviously needs some work.

BELL: That’s putting it lightly.

KATE: Ladies, focus. We need to figure out where we are, contact at least Glasburgh, let people know we’re fine, and figure out food and shelter for the night.

BISMUTH: I’ve got food.

BELL: Pardon me, ma’am, but don’t you have a distress beacon with you?

KATE: It would be reckless to use—we are only misplaced by relatively few hours while still on Earth. My distress beacon summons _the Doctor_, and is to be utilized in case of temporal and extraterrestrial emergencies only. Abusing it would put us directly on a list of irritating lifeforms and I doubt we all want for that to happen.

BISMUTH, BELL: [_together_] No ma’am.

KATE: Good. Now, what do you have, Bell?

BELL: I’ll continue on the fire, and while that’s going, I’ll get fetch the discarded boat tarp I saw a little ways off and use that while putting shelter together.

KATE: There we are; I’ll get some water while I’m searching for additional mobile signal. It at least looks like we landed near a small stream, which is better than nothing.

_The other two make noises in agreement._

BELL: [_grunts while picking through brush_] This is not what I had imagined when you told me I was doing my first escort mission.

BISMUTH: At least this is not the worst bunch to be stranded with—we could be with the new Communications man. He is comely for a Human male, but that temper is vile.

KATE: I am glad I only see that temper in a work context. It would be a shame to see it boil over unnecessarily.

BISMUTH: How else would you see it…?

BELL: [_in horrified realization_] Oh, no, ma’am—I thought that was just a rumor…!

BISMUTH: What was a rumor?

BELL: …that the Brigadier-Director was _dating_ the new Communications man. I thought that just started because you broke him out of prison to work for UNIT.

KATE: The gossip chain might have started then, but the reality is that we have only begun dating a couple weeks ago. I guess it worked out after all—oh shit.

BELL: Ma’am?

KATE: I was supposed to call him tonight, which is now last night, and I don’t think that’s good for this early in a dating-type relationship.

BISMUTH: Dating…? What are the two of you doing that needs dating? Why does it need a relationship?

KATE: We spend time with one another outside of work. Romantically. There is sometimes sex involved.

BELL: Oh, God, I do not need to be hearing this; give me the canteens and I’ll get the water.

KATE: …but, I…

BELL: …and I respectfully decline orders, ma’am, and am offering to do your job instead, down to taking your mobile if need be, in order to not hear any more of this.

KATE: Fair enough. [_She hands over a bag and BELL quickly walks away_.] Bismuth, forgive me if this is a personal question, but do Zygons date?

BISMUTH: There are pre-mating rituals in order to identify who has the most compatible genes for species survival, but it is likely not comparable to Human ones. May I now ask a personal question?

KATE: Fair enough.

BISMUTH: Why go through with what sounds like a mating ritual when one is unable to reproduce? I have observed that males theoretically can reproduce into old age, yet females of your species cannot do the same. _You_ cannot reproduce in your current state; I can smell it. Why attempt mating?

KATE: This sounds like a conversation for another time, preferably one where Bell is around to explain why she is marrying another woman.

BISMUTH: Possibly this is in part of my Human culture training that I have not gotten to yet.

KATE: That sounds about right.

_Footsteps rush up to them._

KATE: Well, that was quick.

BELL: We have a situation—your mobile is blowing up, ma’am.

KATE: Just what we needed, thank you. [_Her mobile buzzes_.] I’ll see what these are.

_She takes a few steps and taps a couple times on her mobile. It rings._

COMPUTER VOICE: You have. _NINE. Teen_. New messages. First message.

MALCOLM: [_static_] Kate? Love? Just giving you a ring in case you needed an out. Can’t fucking wait. Give me a shout when you’re ready.

_KATE chuckles._

COMPUTER VOICE: Next. Message.

FIONA: [_static_] Hey, Mum, I was wondering where—no, wait, I found it. Never mind. Sorry about that. Slaughter a haggis for Granddad while you’re up there. See you when you get back. Love you, bye!

KATE: [_amused_] Figures.

COMPUTER VOICE: Next. Message.

MALCOLM: [_static_] Hey. It’s me again. What the fuck does Glasburgh have you doing? Are they really that bad in need of an inspection that they need to monopolize you all fucking evening?

COMPUTER VOICE: Next. Message.

MALCOLM: [_static_] Love? Did you forget about tonight? I’m sort of sitting here waiting.

COMPUTER VOICE: Next. Message.

MALCOLM: [_static_] Uh… Kate…? Please tell me you’re just finishing mopping shit up. I’d like to lull you to sleep with vulgar nothings if those incompetent cunts will allow it…

KATE: [_voice raised_] It’s mostly just Tucker. [_She turns off the mobile_.] Something tells me we won’t be out here for very long.

BELL: How so?

KATE: I have a rather horny man leaving me _plenty_ of messages and he happens to be the one acting brigadier-director in my stead. Something tells me the search party has already been sent out.

BELL: This is why I very specifically wanted to _not_ date in the workplace. To think of the two of you together is just… ugh… so gross.

BISMUTH: Is it because they are no longer able to reproduce, rendering mating rituals moot?

BELL: Do Zygons have **_no taboos whatsoever_** on this stuff?! Humans don’t talk about stuff like that with their coworkers! I don’t need to hear about a coworker’s sex life as much as they don’t need to hear about mine!

KATE: That’s a bit prudish.

BELL: How am **_I the youngest here_**, yet I am also the one who is the **_most sensible _**about this?!

KATE: Probably the rural Irish upbringing.

_A beat._

BELL: [_defeated_] Yeah, it’s the Irish. You got me there.

_BISMUTH gasps and underbrush rustles._

KATE: Report!

BISMUTH: Get down! I hear a helicopter, but I cannot tell if it is UNIT or not!

BELL: Does it matter at this point?

BISMUTH: It might. [_A sloshing sound_.] I might need to use an off-world form if it proves the most useful.

KATE: Give it a moment. [_Beeping, then buzzing_.] The fuck…? How do I have full reception now?

BELL: I’m not sure. [_More buzzing_.] Hey, mine’s working too now.

KATE: Good. [_Her mobile rings_.] Hold on. Yes, Malcolm?

MALCOLM: [_static_] Thank fuck; that is you. I was so fucking worried.

KATE: Eighteen voicemails and fifty-seven texts level of worried.

MALCOLM: [_static_] …fuck.

KATE: I’m touched. Now get that helicopter down here so we can get closer to finding my quarters in Glasburgh and I can make up for your lost time. I’m feeling extra generous in that regard.

_BELL gags loudly._

MALCOLM: [_static_] I can’t fucking wait, darling.


End file.
